Below Your Feet
by coveredinbees14
Summary: Drabbles with a bit of violence and language so rated T just to be on the safe side.
1. One Night

Regaining consciousness was a bit like coming up from underwater. Boots wasn't sure how long he'd been out. He put one hand to his forehead and felt blood but it was tacky. Attempting to stand up proved to be a mistake as the sharp pain in his head made the world swim before his eyes and he sank back to his knees. Two of Spot Conlon's finest had left him in the piles of garbage under the boardwalk with no shoes, no hat, and no money.

"You're awake. That's good." A female voice interrupted his thoughts and Boots noticed a girl sitting nearby. "Thought they might've killed you."

"Almost did," Boots admitted as he gingerly checked for any broken bones. There weren't any. "You know how to get outta here?"

The girl ignored the question as she ripped a piece of fabric off the bottom of her skirt and held it out to him. He took it and held it to his head although he was pretty sure the bleeding had already stopped.

"I gotta get back to Manhattan," he tried instead. "That's where I'm from."

"I know." She rested her chin on one knee and looked at him thoughtfully. Boots noticed a raw looking cut across her cheek and a mottled yellow and green bruise that ran from underneath the cut to the corner of her mouth. It looked to be a couple of days old but there was no way of knowing. Clearly Brooklyn was a dangerous place to be regardless of gender.

"By the way, there is no way out," she told him. Boots felt his eyes widen in shock before he saw the girl break into peals of laughter. "Look at your face! Jeezus, kid. It's just Brooklyn. You can just walk out the same way you came in."

"Look, I ain't tryin' to be rude but you can either help me or I'll figure it out on my own." He was unsure of how to deal with this strange girl, but he certainly didn't appreciate her idea of a joke.

"Suit yourself," the girl said easily as she stood. "But fair warning, he knows you're here."

"Who's that?" Boots asked bravely. He figured putting up a front would be better than letting anyone know he was nervous as hell. Traveling through Brooklyn with Race was one thing, being left on his own to make his way back home was another thing.

"Spot." The girl turned her back and began to walk away. Boots mouth went dry and a sick feeling rose in his stomach at the mention of the infamous leader of Brooklyn. He cursed himself for ever letting Race talk him into spending the day at Sheepshead. Once Race started gambling he tended to lose track of time and what was going on around him. It turned out Boots would pay the price for Race getting distracted.

"Wait," Boots called out. The girl faced him again. "There's someone I need to find. You know Racetrack?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows Racetrack."

"Me and him stay in the same lodgehouse. I came here with him. He can explain to Spot 'bout this whole mess."

"What makes you think he's still around?" she scoffed.

"We're friends, he wouldn't just leave me here," Boots answered in a defensive tone. "How far is the track anyway?"

"He won't be there. Sun's goin' down."

"You got a better idea?"

"Race'll be up at the docks. He plays cards there sometimes." The girl sighed as she looked him up and down. She bent down and began unlacing her shoes before tossing them across to Boots. "Put 'em on. By the looks of it you Manhattan boys are too soft to be walkin' barefoot all that way."

Boots looked down at the worn pair of shoes and struggled to hide his distaste. His shoes were always a matter of pride for him. His clothes may be worn through or mismatched but he refused to walk around in shoes that had holes or scuff marks. Each night he would shine his shoes using leftover materials from his days as a bootblack.

The only good thing about the shoes was that they were meant for a boy, he could tell by the style. Boots slid the shoes on and followed the girl out from under the boardwalk and up onto the street.

"I'm Boots, by the way," he told her as they skirted past vendors and families out for the day. The girl led him quickly away from the well-dressed men and women toward the backstreets and alleyways.

"I know," the girl tossed back over her shoulder as she hurried ahead of him. The sunlight was fading and Boots struggled to keep up as he feared being left behind in unfamiliar territory at night.

"You got a name?" Boots asked. It was said newsies in Brooklyn were rude, secretive, and didn't take kindly to strangers. But he had assumed that wouldn't apply to the girls. Apparently he was wrong.

"Nosey, ain't you?" The girl stopped so quickly that Boots almost ran into her. "Look, you seem like a nice kid but you and me? We never met. Got it?"

Boots bristled at the way she referred to him as a kid. She didn't look any older than he was. If he had to put money on it, he would have said she was 14, maybe 15. And he did not appreciate being spoken to like a child by some girl dressed in rags and wandering the backstreets of Brooklyn in her bare feet.

"Fine," Boots replied shortly. He gestured up the street, "Lead the way."

* * *

The smell of brackish water filled Boots' lungs as he and the girl made their way toward a small brick building tucked among the larger warehouses. A short, stocky boy was standing outside the entrance as they approached. Light spilled out of the doorway behind him along with the sounds of newsies drinking and carousing inside. Boots hesitated but the girl walked right up to the boy who grinned mischievously and kept his cigarette clenched between yellowed teeth.

"Racetrack in there?" the girl asked.

The boy locked eyes with Boots and spat to one side before commenting, "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Pay attention, Finn. Is Racetrack in there?" the girl snapped.

"Could be," he shrugged before gesturing to Boots, "But I ain't lettin' his kind in."

Boots stepped forward at this remark but the girl put her hand on his chest. She lifted a small coin purse out from under her shirt.

"Your ma shoulda drowned you at birth," she told Finn while holding out a few coins in the palm of her hand.

"Gonna cost you more than that. 'Less you want Spot to find out you helped him get here," Finn answered smugly.

"I ain't worried 'bout Spot. Take it or leave it," the girl replied though she sounded decidedly less confident than before. Finn grabbed the coins out of her hand and stepped out of the way. The girl pulled Boots to one side as he started for the door.

"Be careful, okay? Just find Race and get the hell outta here," the girl told him and squeezed his hand in reassurance. Boots didn't have time to ask any questions before she ran off into the night.

Boots swallowed hard as he slipped through the door and kept close to the wall as he looked around the room for Race. Most of the newsies were too busy playing cards to notice his presence but a few were shooting him dirty looks. He circled the room peering through the smoky haze to find Race and tried to avoid bumping into anyone in the crowded space.

"They can smell fear, you know," a familiar voice laughed. Race nudged him in the shoulder good-naturedly despite Boots tight-lipped smile. "Where you been? That's some knot on your head."

"Spot Conlon's welcomin' committee," Boots answered sarcastically. "Let's just get out of here."

"'Fraid we don't offer cups of tea and cookies like you Manhattan boys are used to." The interruption came from a table behind where Boots and Race stood talking. Boots had seen Spot before when he'd crossed the bridge to meet with Jack. But there was something different about seeing him in Brooklyn. It was as though he was more intimidating and dangerous than before. He was leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table. Despite his casual attitude Boots knew that Spot Conlon didn't miss a thing. In fact, in the split second Spot looked at him Boots felt the Brooklyn leader could see straight through him. And it wasn't a pleasant experience.

"My boys ain't accustomed to havin' strangers take the food outta their mouths, you'll have to forgive them," Spot said coolly as Boots took a cue from Race and slid into a seat at Spot's table.

"Don't look like they're sufferin' much," Race stated looking from one newsie to the next. The Brooklyn newsies were notoriously tougher, meaner, and bigger than newsies in other territories. At least the ones that surrounded Spot were.

"Wasn't aware you was runnin' things now, Race," Spot remarked. His voice didn't change in tone or volume but Boots had a feeling both he and Race were on very thin ice. Boots decided the best approach would be to keep his mouth shut. After all, Race was known for being able to talk his way out of almost anything.

"I do believe we agreed Sheepshead was my spot," Race answered easily.

Spot shrugged. "Just the same I don't remember givin' him permission to show up."

Boots felt his stomach flip flop as Spot's jaw tightened and he found himself staring at the top of the gold-topped cane Spot held inches from his face.

Race scratched a match along the warped tabletop and held it to the end of a cigar. He puffed a couple of times before commenting. "Seems to me your boys already made their point."

Spot set the cane back down next to him. "Soothed their feelings, but that don't mean I'm satisfied."

Boots continued to do his best to remain invisible and watched as Race stared up at the ceiling, the cigar smoke swirling in the air above his head.

"You know Brooklyn hospitality ain't what it used to be," Race said thoughtfully. Boots frowned at the unfamiliar word and tried to make a mental note to remember to ask Race what it meant when they got back to Manhattan. If they got back to Manhattan.

"Good thing you live in Manhattan then," Spot smiled. Boots noticed that although his mouth was smiling, Spot's eyes remained cold.

"Speaking of, we best be gettin' back," Race mentioned.

Spot took his feet off the top of the table and let the front legs of his chair hit the floor with a bang. Boots jumped at the sound but Race remained unfazed.

"Half should just about do it, then," Spot told him. He tipped back the glass of whisky in front of him, draining it in one swallow.

Race opened his mouth as though he was about to say something but thought better of it. He dug around in his vest pocket for a moment before tossing a crumpled bill and a handful of coins onto the table.

Spot didn't even look at it. "I said half."

Race yanked another crumpled bill out of his pocket and threw it onto the table, visibly miffed as Spot smirked at him. Race made a move to leave and Boots felt grateful that it seemed the conversation was over and they were going to make it out in one piece.

"One quick question 'fore you go," Spot said. "Where'd your friend get his boots?"

Race looked at Boots quizzically before answering, "His boots? How the hell do I know?"

Spot picked up one of the coins and flipped it back and forth across his knuckles. He appeared to be waiting for Boots to speak up.

"F-found 'em," Boots stammered. Lying to Spot Conlon was not the best idea but he felt obligated to the girl for helping him find Race.

"Must be lucky," Spot replied evenly. "Finding a pair of boots right after yours get stolen."

"Guess so," Boots agreed weakly.

"I'm gonna need you to leave those here," Spot explained in a way that Boots knew not to argue with.

"What the hell, Conlon?" Race sputtered. Boots just shook his head and quickly unlaced the shoes. He left them on the floor under the table as Race just stood there in wonderment.

"Have a nice walk," Spot told them dismissively.

Boots crossed the room as quickly as possible, passed through the entry, and didn't stop until Race grabbed him by the arm once they had reached the street.

"What the hell was that about?" Race asked.

Boots tried to catch his breath before answering. "There was this girl…"

"You ever notice some of the best stories start with 'there was this girl'," Race interrupted with a chuckle. Boots continued walking, not really sure of the direction he was going until Race began to lead the way back to the bridge.

"So, there's this girl. She helped me find you," Boots explained. "That's where the shoes came from."

"Well, that ain't exactly the story I thought you'd tell," Race laughed. He noticed Boots didn't even grin. "Don't worry, kid. We'll be home in no time."

"She told me not to say anything 'bout her," Boots rambled on. "How the hell did he know?"

"Couldn't tell you," Race answered. "So what was this girl like? She have a name?"

"Nah," Boots said. "She knew my name though. Even knew I was from Manhattan."

Boots heart leapt up into his throat when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind them. He readied himself for another soaking when he realized it was only a kid jogging toward the two as they made their way to the walkway on the bridge.

"Racetrack!" the kid called out. He was carrying a lopsided object wrapped in what looked like a burlap bag.

"Mouse," Race acknowledged with a nod of his head.

The kid pushed the object into Race's hands. "Here. I'm supposed to give this to you."

"From who?" Race questioned. The kid only shrugged. Race handed him a penny and the kid took off at full speed back toward Brooklyn.

Race pulled a piece of twine off the top of the bag and opened it to find a hat and a pair of shoes inside. Boots instantly recognized the items as his. He pulled his hat down tightly on his head and sat down to pull the boots on. As he tried to slide his foot into the one he felt something block up the toe. It turned out to be a small rag containing the money that had been stolen from Boots earlier.

Race whistled softly. "Looks like you made one friend in Brooklyn."

"Yeah," Boots agreed.

"So this girl," Race started. "What'd she look like?"

"She weren't real pretty," Boots explained. "Real skinny with this dress that was about two sizes too big for her. Plus, her face was beat up."

Race stopped and looked at him. "She have brown hair? Kinda long and in a braid?"

"You know her?" Boots asked.

"Tay," Race answered as he began walking slowly with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Sorry?"

Race just sighed and shook his head. "Forget her, kid. She's poison."

Boots followed as Race led the way back into Manhattan territory. All he could think about was how grateful he was to be back home. He and Race walked in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts.

* * *

Author's Note: Not the best and I do apologize for it. It was just something I worked on while trying to decide whether or not to continue my other story. Which is still up in the air ;-) Any reviews are welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	2. Different Perspective

A middle-aged man stood next to a lamp post, slipping embossed cards into the hands of certain passers-by while ignoring others. Music and noise poured out of every window in the bar behind him, inviting people inside. There was a steady stream of people between where Boots stood waiting with David and the pub Jack had just disappeared into.

"I told him this ain't gonna work without Race," Boots said mildy to David as Jack headed back their way with a scowl on his face.

"Mind if I ask who we're looking for? David asked.

"A ghost," Jack interjected as he stopped in front of Boots and David. He scowled darkly at Boots. "Thought you said McNeir's was a sure thing but there sure as hell ain't anyone we know in there."

"It was worth a shot," Boots shrugged.

"Any other bright ideas?" Jack asked as he stared moodily at the surrounding crowd. Boots studied a scuff mark at the tip of his left shoe and hoped maybe there was the slightest chance Jack would give up on this rash idea he was stuck on so they could all finally head home. Spending the night in Brooklyn was something only Jack would have suggested after the meeting they'd just had with Spot Conlon. But pushing one's luck seemed to just be the way Jack preferred to operate.

"Why are we looking for a ghost?" David asked in his usual naïve way. Boots had to hand it to him, David was holding up pretty well considering he'd been closer than he knew to ending up as an example to the others of what happened when you crossed Brooklyn.

"Well, it ain't gonna be any easier now that the whole city knows what we're doing here," Boots pointed out, ignoring David's question for the moment.

"You heard him, he's known about all of it before we even got here," Jack answered. "He's probably sitting up there right now, laughing his ass off at us."

"This would have been easier with Race," Boots reiterated in a tired voice. David looked from one to the other with confusion and Boots began to feel sorry for leaving him out of the conversation. "We're looking for a girl, Dave."

"A girl?" David repeated with a raised eyebrow. He turned to Jack with a crooked grin. "Jack Kelly can't find a girl. Tear out the front page, we got a new headline."

"Funny, Dave," Jack muttered. "This ain't the kind of girl who is easy to find-"

"I thought you were an expert," David interrupted.

"-probably sent her to Harlem by now," Jack continued as though David hadn't spoken.

Boots reached up and scratched his head as he looked around. "She don't leave Brooklyn but you're right, odds are pretty good he's got her tucked away somewhere."

"I read Les a story like that once," David interjected. "About a girl locked up…think she was a princess or something…"

"She ain't a princess," Jack and Boots said at the same time.

"Sorry," David told them, getting red in the face. "Just trying to help."

"It's getting pretty dark, might go better if we head back to the docks."

Jack stalked off in the direction of the waterfront with David right on his heels but Boots hesitated for a moment before following the other two. He scanned the area but couldn't find any familiar faces even though he was fairly sure he was being watched. Of course, being a Manhattan newsie in Brooklyn meant that being watched was nothing new. Boots began to whistle a nameless tune as he finally started off in the same direction as Jack and David.

_"__It ain't gonna be easy," Race had told him just before he took off toward Midtown. Boots should have known that if Race was choosing not to go to Brooklyn, then the whole asking Spot Conlon for help thing was a fool's errand. "He ain't ever seen Dave before so who knows how that'll go, but if it goes south, then you got one other option."_

_"__Why ain't you telling Jack all this?" Boots asked nervously. He certainly didn't want to think about what would happen if Spot Conlon told them 'no'. He'd already seen what Spot and his crew were capable of._

_"'__Cause you got history with Tay-"_

_"__Shit," Boots swore under his breath. "I ain't interested in getting mixed up in that again."_

_"__You got the easy part," Race explained. "All you gotta do is get her attention. You got those same marbles still?"_

_"__Yeah," Boots answered with a puzzled look. "What the hell is she gonna want with them? She ain't got a slingshot."_

_"__No, but she's a thief. I ain't saying it's the best way, you can never tell what she'll take and what she won't." Race stopped for a moment and seemed to be thinking back. "She's like a magpie, leave something out and chances are she'll come sneaking around. If it goes the way I think it will, Jack'll probably try finding her himself but don't count on it working. Just follow Spot. Wherever he is, she's somewhere near. And vice-versa so be careful." _Race's somewhat vague advice echoed in his ears as Boots lay awake on the filthy warehouse floor. For some reason Spot had given them permission to stay the night, although Boots had a feeling that his generosity would only last until sun-up the next morning. Of course it wasn't anything much but Jack had at least procured them a corner off on their own. There was a lodging house in Brooklyn, similar to the one in Manhattan, but Boots had persuaded Jack to stay down by the waterfront. It was where Spot stayed and Boots planned on heeding Race's advice, however misguided it may have been.

"You was holding out on him." Boots sat up straight as he heard a familiar voice and he peered into the dark but could only make out a shadowy outline. Per her usual style, Tay had decided to make an appearance at the most unconventional time.

"W-what?" Boots asked, unsure if he was still asleep or awake.

There was a slight rustle of material and Boots felt his marble bag land in his lap. The bag was considerably lighter than when he had first set the trap earlier that evening.

"I'm gonna keep these three, if you don't mind," Tay answered. Boots understood that it wasn't as though he really had a choice. The fact that she left him any at all showed how different Tay was from the other newsies.

"What do you want with 'em?" Boots asked. "You ain't got a sling shot."

Tay ignored the question and reached over, taking Boots by the hand and led him out onto the maze of wharfs and docks. The moon was bright but Boots still stumbled through the unfamiliar territory, cursing out loud as he smashed his toe on a warped plank of wood that was sticking up. Tay moved easily through the dark, making no sound as she strayed further ahead. Before Boots could protest Tay turned back quickly, pressing down on his shoulders and pushing him back behind a pile of old machinery and broken down crates. He nearly bit his tongue in half to keep from crying out when he smashed his shin against a low beam he neglected to see as he scrambled into the hiding place. Perspiration stood out on his forehead as he tried to ignore the pain radiating up his leg.

The pier that had earlier been filled with people and noise now stood quiet. There was a lone lantern hanging from a nail, creating a small circle of light that revealed a lone figure sitting in the otherwise empty space. Spot was staring out over the water and smoking a cigarette when Tay walked up and took a seat beside him. Boots was hoping that he'd avoid detection while remaining close enough that he could hear their conversation.

In the time since Boots had spent that one night in Brooklyn he had only seen Tay the one time when, a month earlier, she had left Spot and sought refuge in Manhattan. Boots had been charged with the somewhat unlucky task of acting as a messenger boy between Tay and Race. Having his name mixed up in Tay's mess meant Boots had spent more than his fair share of time waiting for Spot or one of the Brooklyn boys to find him and soak him for interfering. When Boots had heard Tay had willingly returned to Brooklyn he was partly relieved but he also felt a bit sorry for her. He wasn't sure whether to believe Racetrack's notion that Tay could talk Spot into joining the strike but after Spot had turned Jack away earlier Boots was willing to give anything a chance.

As Boots watched the pair Tay leaned toward Spot and rested her head on his shoulder. The gesture made Boots more nervous than ever. He'd never seen anyone get that close to Spot, let alone touch him, without ending up with a black eye or worse. Fortunately for Tay, Spot didn't seem to care but Boots still felt apprehensive.

"What'd you take from 'em?" Spot's voice was so low that Boots barely caught the question.

"Nothing. There wasn't nothing to take."

"Don't lie to me." Tay hesitated for a moment and Spot took advantage of the moment to reach over and grab the bag Tay held in her lap. He sorted through the contents before Tay could protest and he flung two items down onto the dock with a disgusted look. Boots recognized the worn marble bag as his own but the other item surprised him. It was a book. The same book he'd seen Jack carry in his back pocket on a daily basis.

"You never learn," Spot muttered. "I told you to stay away from them."

"And I did," Tay countered as she bent down to pick up the items. Spot didn't bother responding to the obvious lie. Tay flicked through the pages of the book, concentrating on it as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Wonder why Race didn't come with 'em."

"You know why," Spot answered as he blew a thin stream of smoke into the air.

"He's still my friend," Tay muttered. She tucked the two stolen items back into the bag and seemed ready to leave when Spot's hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. Tay jerked back but couldn't break his hold as Spot slid the sleeve of her dress up her arm.

"Look at me." Tay lifted her eyes to meet Spot's. "That's why you told him about this, right? 'Cause you're such good friends? He knows all about you spilling your guts to Kelly and keeping him in the dark so he ain't interested in sticking his neck out for you no more. He's not coming back."

Tay glanced down at where Spot's fingers held her wrist and then looked up at him with a smirk that rivaled his own. "If that was true, then how come they's looking for me? I don't care what you say, he's still my friend. And don't be sore with me 'cause you let some kid still wet behind the ears get under your skin."

Spot's hand was at Tay's throat in a second and Boots felt his entire body grow cold as he watched helplessly from the sidelines. He regretted his foolish decision to follow the two and realized that he was in way over his head. Race had not prepared him for the unpredictability of Spot and Tay's relationship. The first time he'd met Tay he'd gotten the distinct impression that something was not right and witnessing the scene right in front of him only cemented that idea in his mind. Tay appeared surprisingly calm even as Boots began to tremble, scared for her and scared for himself.

"Don't you ever get tired of losing?" Spot asked with a cruel smile. He was toying with her, running his thumb along her jawline even as he continued to hold her carefully, his hand curved around the back of her neck. "I know everything that goes on in that pretty little head of yours. You really think I don't know you already got this whole plan? You expect me to join this fucking strike so I can get caught and you're free of me, right? Free to leave Brooklyn. Hate to break your heart, doll, but it ain't happening." Tay pressed her lips together in anger before turning her face away while Spot kept his gaze locked on her. Boots nearly jumped out of his skin when, without turning, Spot announced, "C'mon out, Kelly."

Jack stepped out into the light from just feet away from where Boots remained hidden, his heart pumping wildly in his chest as he watched the two leaders face one another again. This time there was none of the casual joking or shaking of hands. Without warning Spot shoved Tay off the crate the two were sitting on and toward Jack. Tay stumbled a bit but was able to get to her feet and stood glaring back over her shoulder at Spot.

"Heard you was looking for something. Guess I didn't make myself clear earlier when I told you I wasn't interested in playing games," Spot commented. He gestured toward Tay before lighting another cigarette. "It's two bits, by the way."

"Two bits?" Jack asked, clearly unsure of where the conversation was going. Boots knew Jack had spent minimal time in Brooklyn and usually relied on Race to reveal the ins and outs of life there.

"To fuck her," Spot explained casually. "I'm guessing that's what you want with her. She ain't good for much else. Now time is money, Jacky-boy. So pay up or she does."

"You said you wouldn't do this," Tay cut in as she turned on her heel. Jack appeared to be a mix of annoyed and exhausted as he watched the conversation play out. Boots hadn't even thought about the fact that anyone else would be out there at that hour and was grateful that Spot's discovery of Jack meant that he could at least stay hidden and out of that mess.

"Don't get bent out of shape. He knows you're a whore," Spot answered, clearly enjoying himself. "And I gave you a choice, so you got no one but yourself to blame."

"Sure you ain't interested in playing games, Spot? What the hell do you call this shit?" Jack interjected. Spot's mood quickly changed and Boots felt his stomach knot as a dangerous gleam shone in Spot's eyes as he looked across at Jack. Tay seemed to recognize the look and moved toward Jack with her hand out. Boots saw she was holding the book and marble bag from earlier.

"Here, take it," Tay told Jack in a low voice. "I know you ain't got any money so just take this and we'll be even, okay? I took it earlier and I'm sorry. Just take it and go, please."

"I ain't playing a fucking game, Jacky-boy. You had no problem sticking your nose into my business earlier and I just figured you'd want to settle your debt. If that ain't the case, then I suggest you take your boy back there, pick up that mouth of yours, and get the fuck out of my city while you still have two good legs to walk on."

Boots realized that Spot had known his whereabouts all along but he decided to hold out on showing himself. While Jack stood contemplating the choice in front of him Boots got to his feet as quietly as possible, feeling his muscles protest as he'd been sitting in one position for far too long. As Jack strode by Boots quickly matched him, step for step, as they headed back to the warehouse in silence to wake David and make the long walk back toward Manhattan. Boots looked back over his shoulder just once before following Jack and saw Tay standing at the point where the lantern light met the shadows with her back facing Spot who remained seated. Boots was unable to read her expression and he spent most of the walk back thinking about just what he'd be telling Racetrack the next time they met.


	3. Wasted Time

Race noticed that although Brooklyn hadn't officially joined the strike the streets had been eerily quiet as he headed further into Brooklyn's territory. Of course he reminded himself that selling papers was only one way (and quite possibly the only _legal _way) Brooklyn newsies made a living. There was a narrow stretch of sand between the river and the rocky outcropping under the docks secluded enough for Race to feel that he was beyond the prying eyes and ears of most of the newsies who generally congregated nearby and he knew Tay often spent time there. Jack had not taken the idea of calling off the strike well and Race had decided, as a last resort, to try and convince Brooklyn to join Manhattan yet again. He knew it was the cowardly way out to use Tay rather than face Spot but Race had seen what happened when Spot was asked something twice. It wasn't a pretty picture. Race wasn't sure how a meeting with Tay would be received considering how he'd kept his distance lately. For years Race had acted as Tay's confidant and it had been more than a little surprising to find out she'd revealed her suicide attempt to Jack rather than talk to Race about it. At first he'd been a little hurt and mystified but it was time to face the music and Race was somewhat relieved to find Tay sitting alone along the shore.

"Midtown? Really?" Tay muttered without even looking at him as Race ambled up to her. It was slightly cooler in the shade under the pier and he found a somewhat comfortable seat on one of the flatter rocks. When he didn't answer Tay looked over at him and her face quickly changed to one of concern. Race knew he looked awful and after the few days he'd just had, he didn't even try to keep up appearances. "What's wrong with you?"

"They took Crutchie," Race explained. He shoved his hat back off his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. Remembering the sights and sounds of the newsies first attempt at the strike turned his stomach. It could have been any of them and part of him wish it had been anyone but Crutchie.

"Your gimp?" Tay asked and immediately blushed at the withering look Race sent her. "Sorry. Who took him?"

"Delancys," Race answered. Tay raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "They's a couple of thugs that work the circulation counter with their uncle. We was raising hell, soaking scabs and busting up all the wagons when the bulls showed up. They hauled Crutchie off to the Refuge after they worked him over a bit. I tried getting to him but…"

"He's in the Refuge now?" Race heard the sympathy in Tay's voice loud and clear. He knew she had her own personal history with the Refuge, it was part of the reason he had gone looking for her. "I'm sorry, Race."

"You should be," Race told her sharply. Tay immediately balled her fists at her sides but Race wasn't the least bit willing to back down. Race knew he was both taller and stronger than she was but Tay was a capable fighter and he'd been on the receiving end enough times to know she could hold her own.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you never said one word to Spot about the strike. Boots told me all about that night." Race hadn't been even remotely surprised by what Boots had told him about Spot's offer to Jack, but he had been a bit unsure of the scene between Tay and Spot that Boots had witnessed just prior to the blowup. Race had only sent Boots to Tay based on some vague notion that she would be able to get Spot to listen for a split second longer than anyone else. But the fact that she hadn't even tried to talk Spot into joining the strike only irritated him further.

"Well, I ain't talking to him and you can save your breath 'bout how he listens to me or whatever shit you was trying to pull 'cause he don't listen to no one. Least of all me," Tay frowned as she gazed out over the water.

"You gotta say something for people to listen," Race pointed out sarcastically.

"Maybe you didn't hear me. I ain't talking to him. I got enough problems, Race, and I ain't putting my neck on the line for the likes of someone who don't even bother showing up."

"So you got sore at me for going to Midtown and now Crutchie's gotta pay for it?"

"Don't try to pin that shit on me, Higgins. If you boys can't protect your own, then Spot was right. You wasn't ready," Tay snapped. "He told me you'd try and pull something like this."

"Why do you let him get in your head like that?" Race asked. He didn't mean for it to come out as harshly as it did. He had never understood how Spot had managed to wrap Tay around his little finger, especially considering how he treated her.

"That's rich coming from you," Tay scoffed. "Don't sit there and act like you ain't another one of his puppets on a string just doing whatever the hell he asks so you can keep traipsing way out here every day."

"Don't get it twisted, kid," Race told her. "Acting like I give a shit what he says makes my life easier and if he wants to strut around here thinking he could keep me out, that's fine by me as long as I get mine. At least I ain't the one who…never mind, it ain't worth it."

"Go ahead and say it. It ain't like you've ever been shy about telling me how stupid it is to stick around here so why stop now?" Tay said disdainfully. "I can tell you why. It's 'cause you need me to do you a favor. Ain't it funny how that works? You want to know something, Race? You ain't any better than he is 'cause at least Spot don't try and hide shit. He don't send some spy to try and talk to me or avoids me for weeks and then expects me to risk everything just 'cause he asks."

"So that's your answer? You ain't gonna help me 'cause you think I'm just like Spot?" Race asked incredulously. "You wanna talk about people putting their necks on the line? Lemme remind you of something, kid. When he threw you out like garbage, who'd you come to? You think I appreciated getting soaked 'cause of you? You think any of them boys did? And what'd you do? Go back to him like nothing ever happened without even a word, a thank you, nothing."

"If I had told you I was leaving Manhattan and coming back you woulda just told me off for it and called me an idiot and-"

"I never said you was an idiot," Race interrupted.

"You might as well have. I knew you'd just try and keep me there but I had to come back." Race snorted derisively and Tay frowned at him. "Do you remember what you told me when you left for Manhattan the first time? You told me he was gonna destroy himself and take everyone with him."

"I remember," Race told her. "I also remember telling you that you couldn't save him. It's still true, you know."

There was a long moment of silence as Tay continued to gaze out at the river while Race fumed at the idea of her thinking he was anything like Spot. But part of him had almost expected Tay to react the way she had and he grew a little less defensive. Despite her lashing out, Race knew that deep down Tay had a decent heart and he was counting on that fact to get Manhattan the help he knew was needed. The fact was he was the only outlet Tay had and although he never claimed to understand why she'd fallen for someone who treated her so badly, he also remembered her admitting to him that their friendship was the only thing that made life tolerable sometimes. Considering what Jack had told him about the night she'd tried to kill herself, Race felt he could at least try to let some of what she said slide off his back.

"Look, kid, how 'bout you and me call it a truce? And as for the strike, you know the others ain't gonna lift a finger unless Spot gives the word, which is why I sent Boots in the first place," Race explained. As Tay continued stubbornly staring out at the water Race used the only argument he had left. "You know what it's like in there and you know what'll happen to a kid like Crutchie."

Life inside the Refuge was a well-known fact to half the kids in the city but Race knew that it had been especially difficult for Tay and although he was ashamed to use it against her in that way, he was desperate. Tay's face paled and although she didn't look at Race, he knew he'd hit her where it would hurt the most.

"I'll talk to him," Tay volunteered quietly but hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I ain't saying it'll do any good but I'll give it a shot. Now get outta here before I change my mind."

* * *

Meant to be a place-holder (of sorts). I just put it here because it's strike related like the last chapter but it doesn't really fit with the first chapter so blah. That's how I'm feeling about it. I've been trying to decide where this fits in the scheme of things because I found some pieces that I like but they either involve a re-write or some other way of joining what is already here. Anyway - that's enough rambling. Thank you for reading!


	4. Around and Around

Spot turned the worn metal key over and over in his palm but something kept him from placing it in the lock and opening the door. It was the same pinprick of fear that had caused him to hesitate nearly every night before he opened the door to that room. There was nothing but silence from the other side but he refused to think about what that could mean. Since the night Tay had tried to commit suicide Spot had been repeatedly reliving the memory of opening that door and finding her laying there in a pool of blood. His hand hovered above the lock as he stared down at the key, willing himself to just get the hell over it already.

"Spot?"

"Go. The fuck. Away."

The kid turned without another word and took off, looking relieved. He was just another one of the messengers sent to Spot with another of the same trifling little problems that could wait until morning. More shit about Jacky-boy and his strike, no doubt. Spot had been listening to the same news from every corner of the city for a good part of the day. Technically, it was already morning, somewhere around two o'clock was the best he could figure. The room was pitch black and Spot let the door swing freely open so that the dim light outside would help illuminate the cramped space. He felt along the top of the shelf until he found a candle stub and lit it before he closed the door behind him. A hundred thoughts coursed through him in the time it took for the flame of the candle to catch and he realized he'd been holding his breath. It wasn't until the light revealed Tay sleeping peacefully in the bed that Spot relaxed.

Tay shifted to one side but didn't wake up as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her and took off his boots. He dropped them over the dark stain on the floor that had been left behind despite numerous attempts to scrub the blood clean. His hat and shirt followed, as though if he hid the stain from sight it would bring him peace of mind as well. Spot noticed a small object laying on the thin pillow and discovered it was a coin, a quarter to be exact.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Spot asked in a tired voice.

"Two bits," Tay answered quickly and it was clear she'd been feigning sleep. There was a drop of bitterness in her voice that she didn't even try to hide. "Your asking price for me, remember?"

"Christ," Spot swore. "It was a fucking joke."

"Some joke," Tay answered. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about at that moment. He'd known how she would react but it hadn't stopped him from trying to get a bit of revenge on the Manhattan boys for trying to use Tay as a pawn. She belonged to him, and if they expected to use her against him, then he'd have no problem showing them just how little Tay meant to him. The fact was it wasn't the slightest bit true, but he couldn't reveal to anyone that he needed to have her there with him. Spot fell silent for a few moments, unsure of the next step. There were so many things he wanted to say to her.

"What's wrong?" Tay asked in a cautious voice. She was well aware of the danger of approaching him about anything personal. The truth was he'd come to depend on her far more than he cared to admit to himself. Acting as leader had its difficulties and the only person he felt he could come anywhere close to letting his guard down with was Tay. But even that didn't happen regularly and more often than not it resulted in his resenting her for making him feel vulnerable.

"Nothing."

"Fine, but next time nothing is bothering you do me a favor and let me sleep."

"You wasn't sleeping anyway."

"How can I sleep with you jawing at me?" The bed shook slightly as Tay turned over, facing him as she lay on her side. Her skin brushed his as she reached over and toyed with the key he wore around his neck. Tay twisted it between her fingers as Spot waited for her to admit what he already knew. "I saw Race today. He wanted to talk about the strike." There was a slight note of triumph in her voice as though she was proving to Spot that he'd been wrong, that she and Race were still friends despite what he'd tried telling her before.

"I heard," Spot told her. "And just like I said, all he wants is for you to do him a favor. He don't care about you."

"He told me one of their boys got nicked and tossed in the Refuge," Tay answered, pointedly ignoring the last part of Spot's statement. "You could help them."

"Ain't my problem, doll," Spot answered. He'd known from the moment Kelly had gone looking for her that Tay would attempt to change his mind regarding the strike but he wasn't interested in some kind of game where the worst you could do was throw a bunch of rotten fruit. That wasn't exactly what he was thinking of when he had told Kelly that he needed proof Manhattan was ready before he'd throw his support behind them. That one of the Manhattan kids had been caught and tossed in the Refuge made the situation a bit more serious but he still wasn't planning on giving in to the suggestion that he join the strike just yet.

"Race said Jack has a plan to get him outta there but the kid's already got a bum leg so he ain't gonna last long," Tay explained. The hint of sadness in her voice led Spot to believe that she was thinking of the same things he was, their time in the Refuge. Those six months hadn't been the first time he'd ended up inside those walls but it had been the first time he'd basically volunteered to get thrown in jail as he wasn't about to let Tay go through that nightmare on her own. She'd been caught first, for stealing, when Spot had taken it upon himself to assault the cop who'd arrested her and they'd both ended up with a three month sentence. Of course, it had been extended to six months when the two had been caught attempting to escape and it was then that the nightmare really began.

_"You don't care about me. There's only one thing you care about and that's Brooklyn."_

_Spot awoke from a fitful sleep with the words still echoing in his mind. The stone floor offered no comfort and his body ached as he shifted into a sitting position. Outside the barred door he heard the guard shuffling from one side of the hallway to the other but it was otherwise silent. Spot pressed his back against the far wall and tried to count up the number of days. It had to have been at least a week but he wasn't sure. Spot managed to get to his feet even as he was shaking with exhaustion and hunger but he was determined to get to her. His fingers clawed at the metal latch in the door, working the edges until he managed to get it to slide open, giving him a narrow, rectangular view of the hallway outside. The only thing he could see was the dripping stone wall across from his own cell and he let the metal slam back shut as he heard the guard approach._

_"__Up and at 'em, Conlon! Gotta surprise for you," the guard snickered as he twisted the key in the lock and threw the heavy door open. Spot was on his feet in a second even as every muscle in his body protested and he kept a wary eye on the door as a second guard appeared. Spot recognized the two guards as Murphy and Trap but he wasn't interested in knowing anything else about them. Two against one wasn't bad odds and he tensed up, readying himself for a fight when the second guard yanked Tay by the arm into the cramped cell. Tay's shoulders were slumped in resignation and her hair fell into her face as she kept her head bowed. That she wouldn't even look at him was a bad sign and Spot tried to step closer to her but was quickly shoved back. _

_"__Warden explained your having a little trouble following the rules and he suggested we bring you a little motivation," Murphy explained and stuck his thumb out toward Tay. "So, we're gonna give you a choice-"_

_What the choice was didn't matter because Spot had attacked the older boy before he could get another word out. Seeing Trap put his hands on Tay would have been enough but on top of that they'd kept him locked in that cramped cell for days on end only to show up and taunt him. Rage coursed through him but amongst the sound of bones cracking and bruising he heard something that made him stop dead. Tay let out a stifled cry of pain as Trap twisted one arm behind her back, forcing her to kneel on the floor as he smirked at Spot. _

_"__I'll break her fucking arm," Trap threatened. He wrenched Tay's arm back further, causing Spot to step back away from Murphy and drop his hands to his sides. He fumed inwardly and it took every bit of the pained expression on Tay's face to keep him from launching himself right back into the fight. There were drops of blood down the front of her blouse and one sleeve had been nearly ripped from her shoulder. The bruises on her face and neck looked recent and he had a feeling he knew exactly what they had been putting her through while he'd been locked up. Tay stared defiantly at the floor in front of her despite Spot's attempts to get her to look at him. _

_"__Let her go," Spot demanded. _

_"__You ain't the one to be giving orders around here," Murphy sneered as he wiped the blood from his busted lip. He placed his hand on Tay's chin, forcing her to look up at him and causing Spot to lunge forward. Tay's face went white with pain, causing Spot's rage to die down long enough for Murphy to continue. "Here's how this is gonna go, Conlon. Every time you 'cause problems around here, we're gonna make your little bird here sing. Turns out this one ain't so fond of - let's call it, taking a bath."_

_Spot's gut clenched as he watched tears well up in Tay's eyes even as she glared up at the horrid man standing in front of her. There were plenty of rumors about the variety of punishments used in the Refuge but the guards seemed to be particularly creative when it came to the girls. Spot had heard of girls being tied to chairs and tipped backwards into laundry tubs full of water or having buckets of ice cold water dumped over them while forced to kneel on the stone floors of their cells. There'd been tales of the usual beatings and any number of stories about what the male guards did on a nightly basis. He knew all of it because Tay had told him but she'd never admitted that any of those things were being done to her. He'd assumed as much given her eagerness to escape but after they'd been caught he hadn't had any contact with her. _

_"__-so any commotion you want to make, know that she'll be the one paying for it," Murphy continued. Spot clenched his fists until he felt blood run down his palms from the crescent shaped marks left by his fingernails. In the end he did what he always did when it came to Tay, he gave in. From that moment forward, Spot hated her for that. _

Spot placed his hand over Tay's and took a breath. "I need you to do me a favor."

"That's great," Tay scoffed. "Now _you_ need me to…"

"Tay," he cut her off brusquely. ""I'm not playing fuckin' games with you. From now on you stay in Brooklyn, you understand me? 'Cause if you don't, I'll make good on that promise to kill you."

"It ain't like you ever let me go nowhere anyway," Tay muttered as she pulled her hand back and turned away from him. "Since when do you even care where I go? 'Fraid you'll lose out on making more money off me?"

"Since I'm the one keepin' you from endin' up dead," Spot answered shortly. He ignored the jab about the offer to let Kelly sleep with her. Spot had promised to protect her from others but became the worst offender of all. He'd forced her to abide by an impossible set of rules and punished her when she inevitably broke them.

"The only one who ever threatened to kill me is you," Tay retorted."Maybe I shouldn't talk to _you_ no more."

"How 'bout you start usin' your head for somethin' other than coming up with smart-ass remarks?" He would not lose her. Not to Race, not to Jack Kelly, not to anyone or anything. It could all end up crashing down around him but he wasn't going to risk losing her.

"I miss you," Tay said softly. "The old you."

He didn't know how to respond. No smart remark, no cruel comments came to mind. He decided not to say anything. There was no reason to. Instead, Spot stared into the dark for a long time. They both knew that something, or someone, had to give.

* * *

Oh my goodness! First, let me say a huge THANK YOU to the very kind people (WordyAF and Guest) who reviewed this story. It's very old (like me!) and I very much appreciate anyone taking the time to read it, let alone review it. You guys made my whole day! I am not particularly sure about this chapter, it's meant to lead to something else but who knows how that will go. I was able to see Newsies Live this weekend so that was really cool - I can officially say I was one of the twelve people who originally saw the 1992 version when it came out in theaters and now I've seen the Broadway version 3x! So the movie will always hold a special place in my heart but if you get a chance, go see the new one! It's amazing! Thank you for reading!


	5. Down

Author's Note: Thank you to my very kind reviewer, WordyAF! It's so cool to meet a person who also saw the original movie when it first came out - I think that's the best part of these 'fandoms' sometimes is the mix of generations :-) This chapter is just muck but I wrote it and now I'm posting it so there you go. The crazy thing is I'm thinking of writing a chapter from David's point of view but I have no clue how to do that - so wish me luck and maybe this time I'll have an update before months go by :) Thank for reading and enjoy!

* * *

Tay silently wrapped a semi-clean rag around Spot's hand where his knuckles had been cut open in one the fights earlier that afternoon. It had been the fourth or fifth fight that week. She'd thought the newsies ending up on the front page would result in celebration, not warfare. But it seemed that the only way Brooklyn knew how to celebrate was to start a fight, or two or three.

"Might as well drink up," Spot told Tay as he shoved a bottle over to her. She pointedly ignored the offer as she carefully tied the frayed material around Spot's hand. "Either drink or get the hell outta my sight. I ain't in the mood to deal with you sober."

To appease him Tay took a small drink and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth before she pushed the bottle back toward Spot. He'd been drinking since that morning and Tay thought better of arguing with him whenever he was in that type of mood.

"You might want to use your left from now on," Tay advised as Spot tested the bandage by clenching and unclenching his fist. Tay scraped her thumbnail over the grooves etched into the surface of the table and tried to gather her courage. The few drops of alcohol had done nothing to quell the nervous feeling in her stomach.

"What is it?" Spot asked and Tay cursed the fact that he could so easily tell when she had something on her mind or needed to talk to him.

Tay just lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Nothing."

"Spit it out." Spot tipped the bottle back for another drink while he waited for her to speak up. Tay wasn't sure how to gauge his willingness to hear her out. That was one of the problems with Spot. Making the mistake of believing he was too drunk to be dangerous could cause a person to end up in the East River.

"I was just talking with this girl, you know Finn's girl?" Tay asked without looking at Spot. She didn't wait for an answer. "She said all the newsies was invited tonight and so I thought maybe I could…"

"No."

"You didn't even let me…" Tay's voice died as she saw the look in Spot's eyes. She should have known better than to think she could ask him for anything, even when he was drunk. Tay shot to her feet so quickly that the chair she'd been sitting in fell over backwards as she stormed away.

"Tay." Her whole body flinched at the sound of his voice. He hadn't even shouted. Of course he never needed to. She would have heard him call her name from the ends of the earth. Her fingers flexed at her sides as she fought the urge to give in, to turn around and fall into the same old trap. Before she could make a decision she felt herself being half-led, half-pulled into their room and shoved toward the bed as Spot slammed the door closed.

"What are you going to do? Lock me in here?" Tay asked angrily. She picked one of the dusty ten-cent novels up off the floor and flipped through it aimlessly. It was just another rags-to-riches story that Spot seemed to collect for reasons that Tay had always struggled to understand. He claimed to keep them around for kindling but she'd awoken on more than one occasion to find Spot still awake, reading through the pages intently. That he didn't sleep was no secret, but she would have never let on that Spot spent his nights engrossed in some penny-ante stories. _At least when he ain't with other girls_, Tay thought with disgust as she tossed the book away.

"Don't need to," Spot answered. He set the beer he'd brought in with him down on the trunk before pulling his shirt up over his head and Tay felt uneasy at the sight of bruises and cuts that were scattered over Spot's back. He lifted the bottle out of the way and opened the trunk, pulling out a spare shirt from inside. It was clear he wasn't planning on sticking around that night even as he expected her to stay right where she was.

"It ain't like I'm asking to go with you," Tay tried to explain. "I won't even tell anyone who I am and it ain't like anyone will know. I can just go with one of the other girls – "

"Enough." Spot flung the beer bottle against the opposite wall and pieces scattered along the floor. Tay pulled her knees up to her chest as Spot glared at her.

"It said all newsies was invited and I'm pretty sure since I sell papes that means I'm a newsie so I get to go." Tay tried to sound light-hearted about the matter so she could at least pretend that Spot might be coaxed into allowing her to attend."Think of it this way, you could make plenty of money selling me off like you tried with Jack."

"Still stuck on that, doll?" He smirked, familiar and cruel. "It can be arranged, if you'd like."

Tay went cold at the insinuation. She had always had the sense to recognize that no matter how poorly Spot treated her at times, it was nothing compared to what life could have been like without him. It was nothing compared to what could happen to her if he just said the word.

"I'm going to that rally," Tay told him. She linked her fingers together tightly to keep him from seeing her hands tremble as she spoke. Spot didn't even appear to be listening as he buttoned his shirt up and Tay didn't realize the mistake she'd made until she struggled for breath as his hand pressed against her throat. He had changed over the past few weeks, but there were still plenty of times when he was just as capable of hurting her as before. Tay reached up and held his wrist loosely in her hand. At her touch Spot's features seemed to relax and he leaned forward, placing his forehead against hers.

"Why do you do this?" His voice was raw, almost imploring. It was just another contradiction. The gentleness in his voice compared to the feel of his hand still pressed against her throat. His hand moved up from her throat to her cheek and Tay tried, but failed, to keep herself from leaning into his touch. So many thoughts and words swarmed through her mind but she couldn't voice any of them. She didn't know how to deal with the two opposing sides of her heart. Spot had protected her, had kept his promise that he'd made such a long time ago. But he'd also lied and hurt her to the point she didn't even know what to think anymore.

Spot let go of her brusquely and Tay cursed the fact that her body ached and felt empty at the loss of his touch on her skin. She dropped down onto the bed and curled up into the corner, as far from him as she could get in the small space. It was meant to have been a simple request, but nothing with him was ever simple. Everything turned out dark and twisted with Spot always willing to go one step further than she ever would.

* * *

Tay pressed herself tightly into the small space behind the heavy brocade curtain and tried to slow her breathing. Hours ago the idea of throwing on boy's clothes and tagging along with a group of Brooklyn's newsies had seemed like, not a good idea, but also not the worst idea. Tay had honestly tried to forget about Manhattan, tried to ignore the longing she felt as Spot had walked out that night, headed back over the bridge. Being left behind in Brooklyn had left her with too much time to think about how much she hated Jack Kelly and his stupid plan to go up against the most powerful men in the city. She knew what would happen if the strike failed. Spot would lose Brooklyn and the boy she both loved and hated would disappear, taking everything with him.

The rally really was supposed to be for all the newsies, which was the excuse Tay planned on using if Spot caught her. She couldn't escape the image of seeing Spot earlier, sitting at a table next to that girl, actually smiling. Tay couldn't remember the last time she had felt such burning resentment. Not long after a shrill whistle had sounded above the noise of the crowd and all hell broke loose as kids scattered in every direction. Unsure of what was happening Tay darted out from her hiding spot and down the stairs into an unfamiliar hallway. She turned her head to look back to ensure she wasn't being followed and slammed into a figure in the dark. The two bodies scrambled for a moment and Tay found herself pinned to the wall. Her heart pounded in her chest as a hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

"I asked you for one thing," Spot whispered fiercely. He pulled off the cap she'd used to hide her hair and threw it to the floor. "Why couldn't you stay put for once?"

"I just…"

"Shut up." He grimaced as one of Tay's boots caught him in the shin when she kicked at him and he pressed down tightly against her throat, causing Tay to stop trying to fight him.

"Spot, please," Tay begged with what little breath she had left. Her hands reached up and massaged her neck when he finally released her with a look of disgust.

"One fucking thing," Spot muttered more to himself than to Tay.

Tay tried again to explain. "I thought…"

"I know what you thought," Spot interrupted as he glared at her. "Of all the nights you had to pull this shit you pick the night every bull in the city is out for Kelly's head."

"Sounds like that's Jack's problem," Tay told him. Her voice shook despite her best efforts to stay calm. She wasn't sure why she even tried. Spot's eyes held that same light she had seen the night he'd killed Rook. Not frightened or pleased or sympathetic. It was a look of calm. As though he didn't really care what happened next. It terrified her. Everyone knew that the more calm Spot appeared to be, the more destruction he was willing to cause.

"Maybe they'll teach you to listen in jail," Spot smiled wryly. "Almost worked last time."

The sound of fighting drew close and Spot pulled Tay to him, almost instinctively. His fingers pressed so deeply into her skin that Tay would have cried out in pain if she hadn't seen the slightest apprehension in his eyes. Tay asked herself what she was still doing there when the answer was right in front of her. Let them catch her, take her to jail. Any prison would be better than the one he built for her. At the same time she was reminded of how he had saved her life when she had been trapped inside the Refuge.

Tay didn't know whether to be more worried about what he was predicting would happen or the fact that he actually looked nervous. But it was too late to make any kind of decision as Tay was yanked away from Spot's grasp and tossed to the ground like a rag doll. Bodies crushed against her from every side and Tay struck out blindly, like a feral animal as she struggled to maintain her view of Spot. He was lost behind a wall of wool-coated police officers and Tay was swept out into the street with the rest of the newsies.


	6. Burn

Author's Note: Thank you to Guest, WordyAF, and Jaywing for reviewing the last chapter! I tried to write a chapter that would please people and in doing so hope I haven't written a chapter that will please no one *eek*. So, on a side note, I just have to take a breath and say I am completely and totally overwhelmed by the fact that one of my reviewers/readers, WordyAF, actually recommended this story to her readers! Have you read her stories? If you haven't, you need to...seriously, stop reading this drivel and go read one of her stories or a story by her friend, Joker is Poker with a J, because they are both *amazing* writers! There's the Benjamin Hotel series and The Firewatcher's Daughter and All Throught the Night and Dream Girl and How We Heal and Desperate Measures and Ants and Giants and just so many - you have to read them all. You have to, you can thank me later :-) If you end up reading this chapter, thank you and I hope it isn't too awful. I had a very difficult time with Tay and with Spot in this chapter. It's the longest one I've written and the spacing/timing is a little funky but I am feeling a bit stressed so this came tumbling out - thank you for reading and enjoy!

* * *

Tay watched as David met with the girl she'd seen Spot sitting next to earlier and both headed down the street, clearly dejected. The theater lights had gone dark and the few newsies not caught up by the cops or the hired thugs had begun to wander off to find shelter for the night. There had been little to no talk about what to do next as the leader of the strike had been carted off into the night with a majority of the newsies alongside him. Those who were left behind wandered back to their respective boroughs while others remained out on the streets, seemingly unsure of where to go or what to do next. Tay felt torn between returning to Brooklyn or running like hell for the nearest train station. She'd memorized nearly every schedule for passage out of the city, whether by train or boat and her mind spun as the names of cities crowded into her thoughts. She knew where Spot kept his money and before they'd even released him from jail she could be free. For a brief moment Tay felt almost giddy, imagining what life might be like if she took the opportunity that was right in front of her. How many times had she tried to tell Spot about how much she hated him, how much she hated their small life, how many times had she pictured it burning to the ground around them? It was nothing but lies.

It wasn't the first time she'd been left alone without Spot. There had been plenty of nights when she'd wake to find the space next to her in the bed empty. Days when he would disappear or even whole weeks in the winter time when he stayed at the lodge house and she remained hidden behind the walls of the nearest convent, feeling safe in the fact that boys weren't allowed. It wasn't as though that had ever stopped him. He'd seek her out eventually; leaving money or some trinket or marks across her skin that would prove she was still his, that she would never be free of him. There were even the most pathetic of times when she would seek him out, driven half-mad by loneliness and knowing he was the only one she believed could console her.

* * *

"I'm not quite sure what you're used to but you are not getting anywhere near my nice, clean sheets looking or smelling like that." The older woman held a bar of soap aloft and pointed it toward Tay as she eyed the ratty boy's clothing Tay had used as a (failed) disguise earlier that evening. Tay took half a step backward and readied herself to run when she bumped into someone.

"Don't worry, Ms. Nolan. I'll take care of the new girl." Tay turned to see one of the girls she'd walked over to Manhattan with earlier standing behind her in the washroom. Her given name was Lucy but most everyone just referred to her as 'Finn's girl' which happened to a majority of the female newsies in Brooklyn. Some of the boys had a new girl nearly every other week so it was hard to remember most of their names but Lucy had stuck around for long enough that she was one of the few people Tay knew enough to talk to on occasion. Lucy was clearly at ease with the normal routine at the shelter but Tay didn't feel the slightest bit relaxed. She'd only ever stayed in such places during the winter and that night was her first time inside the mission's walls by choice.

"Didn't think you'd show up," Lucy mentioned as she leaned back against the sinks and eyed Tay critically. Ms. Nolan had apparently decided Lucy was worth trusting and had headed back downstairs to the lobby. "But I guess with Spot locked up and half the boys with 'em, the docks ain't exactly a safe place to stay right now."

"Sure," Tay agreed half-heartedly. The truth was there was no way she was going to be able to face returning to that room out at the waterfront after everything that had happened that night. When Lucy had first proposed the idea of staying at the shelter Tay had scoffed but eventually the reality of her situation sunk in and she found herself in her current predicament.

"You know, if I was you and I was gonna go, I'd go now while there weren't no way to stop me."

"Go where?" Tay asked in confusion as she looked around.

"Outta here, away, out west, up to Boston, wherever," Lucy answered. She studied Tay for a moment before shaking her head, almost in disbelief. "You do want to get away from him, right? 'Cause you'd be outta your mind to stay."

"No," Tay lied quickly. It was an almost involuntary response as she naturally assumed that Spot was behind Lucy's question or that he'd somehow eventually find out that she'd been thinking of leaving. A shudder ran over her as she thought about the last time he'd even suspected she was trying to leave. Standing there knowing he was on his way to jail didn't make it any easier for her to consider what would inevitably happen when he got out and dealt with the fact that she had ignored his rules, again. Tay edged closer to the door. She was not going to stay here, that was for sure.

"Suit yourself," Lucy shrugged. She laid a simple nightshirt on the shelf above the sinks. "Towels are there and here's something to sleep in."

"I got clothes already," Tay pointed out as she held tight to the strap of the bag hanging across her body and eyed the tub full of water apprehensively. "And I ain't getting in there so you can tell that lady all I paid for was a bed and that's all I want."

"They got rules here and you ain't gonna pass bedcheck if you don't get cleaned up," Lucy explained. She reached out but Tay shied away defensively. "It's not like any of us don't have things to hide so that's nothing new. A few bruises or scars ain't gonna scare anyone."

"It ain't that," Tay told her, feeling the panic rise in her throat. The air in the room felt heavy and she wished with all her heart that she'd just stayed out on the streets or listened to her gut when it told her to run for the hills while she still had the chance. "I just need to get some sleep, okay?"

"It's just water, it won't kill you, doll," Lucy answered.

It had to have been on purpose, there was no other reason in Tay's mind for Lucy to have used that particular epithet. It was all too much for her to deal with, the whispering from other girls, the invasion of privacy, listening to some girl she barely knew use Spot's nickname for her. There was no trust, no sense of camaraderie with these girls and Tay didn't think she could deal with another minute inside the walls of that mission. It wasn't until Lucy reached for Tay's bag of belongings that Tay finally snapped. Next thing she knew she'd found herself locked in the isolation room, unsure of exactly what had happened and feeling fairly sure that whatever she'd done, it was nothing compared to what Spot would do when he finally came home.

* * *

"Well don't you look cheerful." Spot glared at the blonde girl who dared intrude as he sat recovering from his night in jail in a dingy pub. She looked familiar but he couldn't quite place her face. He knew some of the female newsies didn't even bother with names, preferring to be called 'so-and-so's girl' instead. Pathetic.

"Not interested," Spot told her brusquely. The girl twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and smiled flirtatiously despite his clear dismissal. She helped herself to the barstool next to him and took a seat far too close for his comfort.

"I'm supposed to deliver a message to you about your precious little bird. It turns out she won't be joining you for awhile."

"What are you talking about?"

"It was a big scene at the mission last night. She threw some fit and almost got herself thrown out on the streets but lucky for her Lucy talked Ms. Nolan into letting her stay but-"

_Fucking hell_. Spot shoved his chair backward and made his way through the raucous crowd, leaving the girl still sitting at the bar. He hadn't expected Tay to show up voluntarily after the scene at Irving Hall but her disturbance at the mission was not something he had planned for. The building was fairly quiet as he approached, bypassing the main entrance for the side door along the alleyway. An older woman answered his knock and he recognized her from the brief amount of time he'd spent inside the mission classroom in his youth.

"I had a feeling I'd see you today, Liam," Ms. Nolan commented while leading him through the kitchen and laundry areas to the lobby. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and frowned slightly as she turned toward him. "You know we've always been fairly flexible about our rules here. I do seem to recall you doing your best to break any number of them while you attended school here but I'm afraid we cannot look the other way this time."

"What'd she do?" Spot asked bluntly as he prepared himself to hear Tay accused of any number of offenses.

Ms. Nolan placed her hand on the banister and made her carefully up the narrow staircase. Spot followed her up to the bunkroom on the third floor and was surprised to see her lead him to a room that had, back in the day, been reserved for kids suffering from illnesses. Spot listened carefully but other than Ms. Nolan's slightly heavy breathing from the climb he didn't hear another sound.

"I'm assuming the young woman is a friend of yours?"

"Something like that," Spot admitted.

"Your friend arrived late last night and I'm afraid to say she was improperly attired and wasn't at all receptive to the regulations we have here. I left her in the care of one of our regular girls, Lucy, who provided most of my information regarding what happened last night. Lucy did her best to negotiate the situation but your friend refused to cooperate and I'm afraid there was quite a scene. I did my best to get the situation under control but it was reported to us that Tay had a knife hidden among her possessions and as we do not allow weapons here, the situation had to be addressed" Ms. Nolan paused and Spot saw both kindness and worry in her eyes as she took a key from her pocket and handed it to Spot. "Perhaps you should talk to Tay about the rest."

The older woman gave him a small smile and headed back down the hallway, leaving Spot wondering just what he was going to find behind that door. He gathered his nerve and opened the door just in time for a shard of pottery to just miss his head.

"Some people just say 'hello'," Spot joked as he entered the room, closing and locking the door behind him. The floor around his feet was a mess, littered with pieces of broken pottery, glass, and bits of paper. Tay was curled up on the floor in the far corner of the room and sat there fretfully biting at her fingernails. She pressed herself further back against the wall as Spot crossed the room and knelt in front of her. Tay's hair hung down into her face and he noticed that she was trembling, whether out of fear or exhaustion he wasn't sure. Spot took her left hand in his and turned it over, examining the series of cuts and scratches before doing the same with her right hand.

"Anna." At the sound of her given name Tay drew back but Spot held onto her hands, gently rubbing the tips of her fingers. It was an old habit and one that she had always found soothing before. Seeing the distant look in her eyes as she struggled to overcome the darkness reminded him too much of what Tay had been like in the Refuge. It had taken him months to reach her after that and he wasn't looking forward to going through it all over again. He slowly inched his way closer to her until they were sitting knee to knee and kept her hands in his.

"They took everything," Tay said quietly. She kept her eyes turned down toward the floor and the pain in her voice was clear. "I didn't even do anything with that stupid knife, I just…it's mine. I wasn't going to hurt no one."

Spot went over the questions he wanted to ask, trying to determine which would be least upsetting to her. He wanted to know how it had all started, or how the girl had found out Tay even had a knife in her bag. Spot knew she did. It was the knife he'd given her when they'd first met and the same one Tay had often kept concealed on her person while she sold newspapers. The rule against weapons had been in place since his days in the classroom but he'd never thought to warn Tay about it. She had never been particularly violent but he could have told Ms. Nolan, or anyone else, that taking Tay's belongings would mean all bets were off. She'd been carrying the bag the very first moment he'd met her and it had been by her side ever since. The items seemed to offer her some sense of security and the disarray in the surrounding room was evidence to Spot that his prediction of what would happen if the bag was taken from her had come true.

"Just tell me what happened, from the beginning," Spot encouraged. Tay glanced around the room before settling her gaze back on where their hands were linked together in his lap.

"She tricked me into coming here," Tay whispered and her lower lip trembled. "I should have just run. I can't stay here. You have to get them to let me out of here."

"That don't explain what you're doing in here in the first place," Spot pointed out. He wasn't going to address the last part until she explained her side of the story.

"All I paid for was a bed, that's all I wanted. I just wanted to go to sleep," Tay rambled as though she hadn't even heard Spot speak. "They tried telling me I couldn't keep my clothes and that I had to clean up and I ain't getting in any water-"

"Christ," Spot interjected in a low voice. He should have known, especially since Tay's intense fear of water that had developed during her time in the Refuge was what he might consider a bonus to keeping his headquarters at the waterfront. It provided another way for him to manipulate her. She never went any closer to the river than to sit at the edge but forcing her any further than that would cause her to react violently.

"I want my things back and I want to leave. Now," Tay demanded but her voice was still shaky. "I never should have come here."

"So if you were gonna run, what are you still doing here?" Spot asked.

"I don't know," Tay sighed as she finally looked up at him. "I just want to go home, please."

* * *

"If I'd known I was gonna get punched in the face, I would have asked for more money." Spot turned on his heel to discover Lucy standing just on the other side of the alley as he exited the side entrance to the building. He'd sent Tay on ahead to wait for him out on the sidewalk in front of the mission before handing over two dollars to Ms. Nolan for any damages Tay had caused. He had claimed that was all the money he had at the given moment and knew the transaction would be easier without Tay there to give anything away.

"I paid you to keep her in Brooklyn. I didn't pay for your opinion or for you to cause this mess so if you got a problem with it, too bad," Spot answered curtly.

"I'm sure Tay would be interested to know the whole story about you."

"Lemme explain something to you, sweetheart. You seen how I treat her and I let her sleep in my bed, so imagine how I'd treat some two-bit floozy I barely know who tries to threaten me. Got it?"

"So how am I gonna explain this to Finn?" Lucy asked as she pointed to the bruised skin around her left eye.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, you're a smart girl," Spot answered with a pointed look. It hadn't been part of the original plan to use an outsider and he felt his foul mood increase as he thought about the fact that this girl was trying to act like she had something to hold over his head. Without another word he turned toward the street and found Tay waiting for him on the front stoop. He held the previously confiscated knife out in one hand and Tay grabbed it before tucking it inside the bag Ms. Nolan had finally returned to her.

"Let's go." Between Kelly in jail and the strike basically being declared dead, Spot knew there was nothing but chaos waiting for him back at the docks. Wasting his morning dealing with Tay only made him more eager to deal with business in his usual violent manner.

"She called me 'doll'," Tay said as she walked alongside Spot down the street and through the mid-afternoon crowds.

"What?" Spot asked, pausing briefly.

"I said, she called me 'doll'. That girl at the mission, Lucy," Tay told him. She gazed at him for a long moment but Spot didn't waver as he stared straight back at her.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"No," Tay said hesitantly. "I just…I mean…no. I guess it's nothing."

"Good. I'm done talking about this shit now, understood?" Spot waited until Tay nodded. "Nobody out there cares about you so maybe next time you feel like running you'll realize I'm right and we won't have to play these little games anymore."


End file.
